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"Oh okay. Well a mug'll be fine, I'm sure. An' I fought we could just like.. use a knife or somefing." F suggested vaguely, apparently automatically assuming he was going to get help from the goat-man, and ignoring the unnerved looks he was getting.

"I mean, I'm sure we don't 'ave to stick to vese customs exactly. I personally don' fancy plugging whatever 'ole we make wiv s**t, after all." he stated bluntly, pointing out the sentence about stopping the blood with dung and mud.

"Maybe we can use a plaster." he said with a shrug, eyeing the magazine clipping for any other information.

The goat, meanwhile, after being ignored by her larger goatly friend, had resigned herself to chewing on Stewart's doorframe.

"Alright, so, I'll quickly get stuff from vuh canteen, if you stay 'ere and get 'er comfortable.. or somefing. Okay?" he asked, excited at how this looked at least more promising than his last plan, and not registering what might be going on in the man's mind.

F didn't even wait for an answer before nodding anyway and dashing off to the canteen for a knife, a mug, and some bandages. He found himself salivating along the way, almost able to taste the blood already.

The goat looked up from the splintering wood of the doorframe and peered at the offered hand for a moment before stepping forward and moving to give the fingers a gentle lick.

F, meanwhile, had just started back towards Stewart's duplex when he realised that some kind of antiseptic might be a smart idea. So he turned back and pestered Delia some more, then headed towards where he'd left the billy goat and his little friend.

The goat's ears seemed to perk at the sound of the bleat, but her excitement was interrupted by the large semi-human falling on top of her. The animal let out her own alarmed bleat and struggled, but couldn't go far with a rope around her neck.

Of course, the most unfortunate time for F to appear is more-or-less exactly that at which he does. The flea-man rounded a corner with his arms full and immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight of Stewart seemingly mounting the goat.

He was speechless for a second, until the antiseptic bottle slipped from his grasp and bounced along the floor, prompting him to blurt out something.

"Oi, vat's my dinner!" he exclaimed, thick eyebrows raising. "I said get 'er comfortable, but I didn' mean for you two to knock hooves right 'ere!" he said with an incredulous sneer.

"Ahah, tripped." he repeated with an unconvinced laugh, kicking the bottle forward as he walked. "Smooth, Juliet."

The goat shook itself once Stewart had pulled himself off of her, but still peered up at him as if curious and slightly confused.

"You two can jive after we're done 'ere. But I don' want any unnecessary mess for now, fanks." He said as he stepped up to the bottle and poured some of the liquid onto the knife and then some onto a piece of cloth.

"So you fink you could control yourself if I asked you to hold 'er still?" he asked with an cheery grin, waving the knife towards the goat.

The flea-man simply grinned as Stewart swore his innocence.
"Whisper sweet nothings into 'er ear if you want. She's not going t' like vis.." he warned casually, holding the mug out for him to take before he began to clean an area at the side of the goat's neck.

F wasn't feeling quite as confident about all this as he hoped he seemed, but he had decided that appearing so would be his best bet in order to not freak the goat-man out. This was definitely better planned than his last attempt, but the goat's reaction to its unwilling blood donation would still be more or less uncontrollable. He could only hope that a fellow goat-like creature being there would tame her slightly.

The goat did seem to have calmed down after being jumped on, but still glared warily at F as her neck was cleaned, and tried to pull away towards Stewart for protection.

Still kneeling down in front of the goat, F was soon satisfied with the cleaning job.

"Shouldn't do." he responded cheerily. As he picked up the kitchen knife once more, a fleeting grin snuck onto the flea-man's features as he found himself momentarily contemplating the seemingly imminent result of all this hassle.

F's hands trembled slightly as he aimed the knife at the spot on the goat's neck, but he drew it back without hesitation, like a golfer preparing for a drive. This action caused the goat to flinch. F drew it back further regardless, and then glanced towards Stewart for a second, at which point the goat took the opportunity to give F a swift headbutt to the sternum.

F promptly fell back, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. He instinctively swiped back at the goat's nose with a foot, but the animal easily avoided the vague kick.

The man grunted from the floor. "Splendid job-" he managed to wheeze. "-wiv ve 'olding 'er still.. an' keeping 'er calm." he paused to catch his breath.

"I'd imagine she's a firecracker in bed vough." he drawled, a three-pronged tongue protruding from his mouth slightly.

"Per'aps you should do it?" F suddenly suggested with a hopeful, lop-sided grin, before considering that his phrasing may have been more than a little misleading.

"Not shag 'er-" he corrected sharply. "-I mean vat." he pointed towards the knife that had fallen near his feet and held a hand out to take the mug from the goat-man.

F made a noise that was half sigh, half grunt, and dropped the arm that was raised to take the mug. "Alright. Don't worry. Jus'.. try and keep 'er steady, 'kay?" he said with a calm nod.

He then shuffled forwards once more, and gently put his hand on the side of the goat's neck. His other hand was behind him for now, concealing the knife from view.
"This won't 'urt a bit." he assured the animal with a brief smile, before plunging the knife into her flesh.

His stomach jolted slightly as soon as the precious liquid spurted from the wound, and F realised Stewart still didn't seem to be paying attention. "Catch it!" he warned with a flail of his arms, as the goat struggled against whatever restraint held her.